


Do You Believe in Destiny?

by marc0bot



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Flirting, Bitty would NOT be able to do a double axel after years of no figure skating, Co-workers, ESPECIALLY on hockey skates are you KIDDING ME, Enemies to Lovers, Getting Together, Humor, Jack Zimmermann Didn't Go to Samwell, M/M, Twitter, as a figure skater I'm very passionate about this, axels are the hardest jump please omgcp fandom I'm begging you-, mascot au, the way some people write figure skating in fics upsets me so-
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24550240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marc0bot/pseuds/marc0bot
Summary: Fresh out of college, Eric was hired to bring the Falconers' new mascot, Destiny, to life. His new job, though difficult at times, was extremely rewarding; the fans and even the slightly intimidating roster of players loved the new addition to the franchise...All except for one, and Eric was determined to change his mind.
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 22
Kudos: 247
Collections: OMGCP Reverse Bang 2020





	Do You Believe in Destiny?

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for this year's Reverse Bang, inspired by [wonderful art](https://bajillionkittens.tumblr.com/post/620201861116461056/bajillionkittens-the-first-of-two-fics-i) by Bajillionkittens!
> 
> I'm not 100% happy with this, but that's what I get for giving myself so little time to write it,,,at least it's a fun and easy read!
> 
> p.s. I know next to nothing about what being a mascot entails, so take my interpretations with a grain of salt-

~~~~

Adjusting the framing one last time, Eric takes a deep breath before starting his intro.

“Hey, y’all!” He gives a wave to the camera, trying to resist the urge to look at himself in the viewfinder. “Gosh, it feels like it’s been forever since I’ve vlogged. I’m so sorry for leaving y’all hanging for a while there!”

Eric gives a small laugh before continuing, “Turns out being a mascot is way harder than it looks, so I haven’t been able to upload as much as I used to….But! You can always tune in to any Falconers home games to see me in action!” He smiles.

“This new job is still keeping me crazy busy, but it’s so much fun and I work with such great folks!” Eric pauses.

“Oh! That reminds me…” He rolls his eyes, though he can’t seem to wipe the rest of his smile from his face entirely; his audience can probably see right through him.

“I had another run-in with _Monsieur Grumpy_ and his ugly yellow shoes the other day….”

~~~~~~~~~~

_**August 2017, 3 months after graduation** _

“We’ve looked over your application,” Georgia, assistant GM for the Falconers, said. “And your experience with hockey and strong social media presence seem to be exactly what we’re looking for.”

Eric smiled, willing himself not to bounce in his seat. _Stay professional, Eric; You wore your nicest bow tie for a reason._ “So, I got the job?”

Georgia gave a small smile in return and nodded. “Yes, the job is yours.”

“Wow, I-” Eric reached to shake her hand. “This is wonderful. Thank you so much for the opportunity; I won’t let you down!”

I’m sure you won’t,” She replied. “There are a few things I’d like to go over before we’re done here, though.”

Situating himself back in his chair, Eric said, “Of course!”

“Good. Well, obviously you’ll be joining the team during practice until you feel comfortable in costume on the ice, but there are some rules I’d like you to know right off the bat.” She skimmed through the pile of papers on her desk before finding the right one. “First and foremost, there is no talking allowed while on the job, especially to children. We don’t want to ruin the magic for them.”

This wasn’t exactly new information for Eric. He knew from researching the job that staying silent and staying in character was a crucial part of the mascot persona, but still, it didn’t make it any more disappointing. Eric wasn’t afraid to admit that he was a talker (it’s what gave him his strong Twitter game) so staying mute was going to be a big challenge for him.

One he’s definitely willing to accept, and hopefully not fail.

“Totally! When the uniform is on, these lips are sealed!” He mimed zipping his mouth shut.

Georgia laughed. “Keep that enthusiasm up and I’m sure you’ll have no problem. Now, moving on….”

They continued to go over all the most important aspects of Eric’s position, every one of the franchise's expectations for their new addition. Eric would’ve been overwhelmed if it weren’t for the crash course in mascot culture that Ransom and Holster gave him when he had first mentioned applying. He didn’t really appreciate the two hour long lecture at the time, but he was definitely thankful for it now.

The conversation ended with Eric signing an NDA, which seemed a lot more dramatic in theory than it actually ended up being. He had practiced writing his signature for way too long beforehand though, so at least the _sign here_ line was filled with something professional-adjacent.

“Well, that’s all I wanted to go over today. All other information is provided in the paperwork, which I’ve made a copy of for you,” Georgia handed him a neatly organized Manila folder. “But if you have anything you need to be clarified, just let me know.”

Eric tucked the folder underneath his arm. “Thank you so much,” he repeated, but he was a firm believer that you could never be too transparent. “I can’t wait to get started!”

“Oh, that reminds me!” She said. “We’ll be having a press conference in about a week to announce the new mascot, and of course it would be great if you could be there. We can put away time afterward for you to meet the team as well, if you’d like.”

Oh gosh, Eric had completely forgotten about that. He would be meeting the Providence Falconers! Well, he’d be doing more than just meeting them; he’d be working alongside them, or at least, as close to working with them as he could get besides being good enough to be drafted, which Eric knew from the start was never going to happen.

This though, this might’ve just been the next best thing.

“That sounds fantastic! I’ll be sure to be there!” He hesitated before adding, “How many pies do you think would be sufficient, and does anyone have any allergies I should know about?”

Georgia's eyes widened and, with a bark of laughter, she patted Eric’s shoulder with a friendly hand. “The team’s definitely going to be lucky to have you. Welcome aboard.”

They shook hands one last time before Eric dismissed himself from her office and made his way back to his car with a spring in his step. He needed to get back to his apartment and start planning right away.

If Eric was going to prove her right, he had some pies that needed baking.

``````````

He might have overestimated the number of pies he needed, but it was always better to be safe than sorry and having lived with hockey players for years and being one himself, he knew how much they could scarf down and how fast they could do it.

So Eric made four pies: apple, peach, blueberry, and chocolate cream, just to make sure he covered all of his bases. If it ended up being too much, there were always his old teammates from Samwell to finish them off during their next visit.

Somehow, Eric was able to carry the pie boxes into the locker room all by himself without dropping one, which was quite a feat in itself.

The press conference had gone just about as smoothly as one could go. To be honest, Eric didn’t really have any experience with that sort of thing, but he’d have to get the hang of it now, he supposed, being a public figure who wasn’t confined to a computer screen.

Except his face would be hidden under a giant bird head, so maybe it would actually be less stressful than his amateur baking tutorials….

Georgia revealed the mascot design to the press, and Eric stood off to the side, as unassuming as he could be in his blue button-up and snazzy red bow tie. He went all out for this, sue him; if he wasn’t going to be attending this meeting in a sweaty bird costume that weighed almost as much as he did, he was at least going to look good.

“We’d like to announce the addition of the Falconers’ very own mascot, Destiny!” Georgia said, gesturing to the image projected on the screen beside her; a falcon sporting an official Falconers’ jersey, the word _DESTINY_ and _15_ plastered on the back of it. They had let Eric decide what the number would be, and of course he had to go with his number from college. It was surreal, trying on that costume for the first time a few days ago to take these pictures and seeing his number on an NHL jersey, even if it was fake feathers and wings filling it out instead of hockey gear.

The press had gone wild, seemingly completely on board with the new addition to the franchise. Eric hoped that was still the case after his first game appearance.

Soon enough, the media filed out, and Eric was taken back to the locker room where he had left all of his pastry boxes to meet almost the entire Falconers’ roster. He tried not to let his nerves show through as Georgia introduced him to the group.

“Boys, this is Eric. He’ll be the man behind the feathers from now on.” She gave them all a piercing look. “Try not to scare him off.”

They all laughed, and Eric joined in, albeit a bit uncertain. “Please, call me Bitty. I’m excited to work with y’all!”

The guys all responded politely, with varying levels of interest.

“And I brought a few pies as a thank you, if any of y’all are hungry.”

And then, chaos.

Seriously, at this point, Eric shouldn’t have been surprised.

He regrets to admit that he did flinch when one big, muscular arm wrapped around his shoulder from behind a few minutes into the meeting-turned-food-frenzy.

“I always thought we should have mascot! Good pie just seal the deal,” Alexei Mashkov – or Tater, apparently, as he’d introduced himself a moment before – said. “You perfect for job, Little Birdie!”

Eric smiled, trying not to let his knees buckle under the weight of Tater leaning on him a little too heavily. “It’s Eric, actually, but you can call me Bitty; old hockey nickname….”

Tater barked a laugh in his ear. “Not anymore! You small and dress like bird, so you Little Birdie now!” He removed his arm from Eric’s shoulder and shoved a big bite of blueberry pie into his mouth, a bit of filling dripping down his chin. “This blueberry so good, you have to make more. Special, just for me, ok?”

“Uh….sure, anytime!”

“George make good choice. Welcome to the team, Little Birdie!” He gave Eric a slap on the back, then rushed back to the table where the pies were being served. He began to wrestle who Eric guessed was Snowy, the Falc’s goalie, out of taking the last slice of blueberry pie.

“Fuck you, Tater!” Snowy yelled, punching him in the shoulder; Tater simply laughed and shoved close to a third of the slice into his mouth before Snowy could steal it away from him.

As Eric watched the complete rowdiness of hockey boys in all their glory, he noticed Georgia off to the side, talking quietly to a tall man with dark hair and – from Eric’s viewpoint – a notably impressive ass. He continued his trail downward until his eyes met possibly the ugliest pair of shoes Eric had ever seen; Neon yellow? Seriously?

As the man turned around, he locked eyes with Eric, piercing blue eyes almost enough to distract from the intense frown on his face.

Of course, Jack Zimmermann, captain of the Falconers and owner of the most unyielding Resting Bitch Face in the league. Eric had to admit, from all of the interviews he had watched of Jack, he thought the whole glaring thing was kind of hot.

It decidedly wasn’t now, Eric had decided, when it was directed right at him.

Oh, and now he was coming this way, directly toward Eric. Well, it was good while it lasted. Lord, help him.

Eric put on his most award-winning smile, the one that crinkled at the corners and made anyone want to drop their guard.

Apparently, Jack Zimmermann wasn't just anyone.

He didn’t let that stop him from trudging on, though. “Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Zimmermann!” When no response was given, he gestured over to the pies on the table. “Would you like a slice? I’ve got apple, peach, and chocolate cream! Tater ate the last of the blueberry, I’m afraid. That boy sure can eat!” He laughed, a bit too forced.

“No thanks, it isn’t my cheat day,” Jack replied, voice almost a complete monotone, his glare still intact and boring into Eric a bit too much for his liking.

“Oh, well that’s a shame-”

“It isn’t any of theirs either, you know.”

Eric paused, eyes wide. “I….excuse me?”

Jack sighed, a slight roll to his eyes as he said, “Look, I know George thinks this whole mascot thing is a good idea, and I trust her, but I don’t need you distracting the guys more than you already will on the ice.”

“I- What-”

“Just,” He crossed his arms over his unfairly wide chest. “Don’t bring around any more sweets, stay in your lane, and we won’t have a problem.” And with that, Jack left Eric’s side and returned to George across the room, beginning to speak in hushed tones once again.

Eric frowned, crossing his arms over his own – frankly sad in comparison – chest. “ _Well_ , nice to meet you, too….”

Before he could make the terrible decision of stomping over to Mr. Zimmermann and giving him a piece of his mind, Tater waved to him, pie server in hand, and said, “Little Birdie! I come over sometime, eat more pie, yes?”

“Sure, Tater,” Eric replied, meeting him at the table and beginning to set the remaining slices on individual plates to dole out to anyone who was still somehow hungry for more. He definitely did not overestimate the number of pies a group of jocks could consume in any given time frame.

As he arranged the plates across the table, he chanced one more look in Jack and Georgia’s direction, only to find Georgia now talking to another member of management, Jack now nowhere in sight.

 _“Well,”_ Eric thinks. “ _Two can play at that game.”_

``````````

It was his first on-ice practice in the completed mascot getup, and Eric was as confident as he could be in an already sweaty and constricting costume. But Eric was a great skater, he knew this. No matter the style of boot or blade, each time he stepped on the ice, he glided effortlessly. He was a figure skating champion, after all, and he wouldn’t have been called the fastest player in the NCAA if his edges weren’t up to snuff. No, Eric was a terrific skater; not even 10 pounds of feathers and lack of hand usage could slow him down.

And yet.

He had brought and laced up his hockey skates because no hockey mascot would be caught dead with a toe pick. That was his first mistake.

Then, he’d placed the well-constructed falcon head over his own and made his way to the rink entrance. He’d felt fine at first. Sure, his center of balance was quite different from what he was used to, but that was nothing Eric couldn’t adapt to after a few hours on the ice.

Once he got about halfway across the rink – making sure to not get in the way of the handful of Falcs’ who’d actually decided to show up for optional skate – Eric decided he was confident enough to pick up speed.

 _Falcons are speedy little things_ , Georgia had told him that morning; _So if you can show the ice who’s boss, I’m all for it._

He was rounding a corner, hands clasped behind his back as he made a sharp turn, when it happened. Apparently simple crossovers weren’t as easy when you were suddenly a lot more top-heavy, and Eric found himself falling forward as he lost control of his inside edge, winged arms flailing miserably and sprawling out across the ice as he landed.

He tried to get up as quickly and nonchalantly as possible so that no one would notice, but of course he was too late as a pair of skates stopped abruptly in front of him, covering his knees with the spray they created.

“Thought you needed to know how to skate to get this job,” said the monotone yet slightly chirpy voice above him.

 _Fuck, of course it had to be you_ , Eric thought as he steadied himself back upright. Even on skates, Jack was still almost a whole foot taller than him, and that somehow annoyed him even more than the comment.

Wiping the melting ice from his legs, Eric replied, “I’ll have you know I was Southern Junior Regionals champion 2010-”

Jack gestured to his skates which were covered by, somehow, even more feathers. “This is hockey. You know that, right?”

Eric crossed his wings over his chest. “I was also captain of my Division one NCAA hockey team, _Mr. Zimmermann._ ” He attempted to point an accusing finger at Jack, but the effect wasn’t the same in the costume. “I’d like to see _you_ try skating in this getup! I can hardly see out of this thing and it all weighs like ten extra pounds!”

Jack laughed, and it hit Eric’s ears like a physical assault. “I think I’ll leave that to you.” He paused momentarily as if he wasn’t certain he should say anything more. Apparently, that extra time to think wasn’t enough to stop him from running his stupid mouth. “Just- get it together, alright? I know this is your ice time too and all, but my boys don’t need you distracting them during practice too. The pies were enough already.”

He didn’t roll his eyes, but Eric could tell that he would’ve if his face hadn’t seemed to be stuck in one stoic position. Jack didn’t say anything more, either, just made his way back to where Tater was trying to do shooting drills by kicking the puck with the side of his skate blade and failing miserably, leaving Eric gawking from underneath his giant bird head.

“Ok, _Monsieur Grumpy_ ,” Eric said against the inside of his beak. “You want a distraction? I’ll give you a distraction.”

The next thirty minutes of practice went by extremely quickly as Eric made a huge amount of progress with his stability, fueled solely by spite and his ever-growing need for approval (he was self-aware, ok?). He was starting to be able to perform a few simple figure skating moves even with the hockey skates and uniform, so of course Eric did the petty thing and used his skills for evil.

He skated within perfect view of Jack and the rest of them, invading their space just a little more, before launching himself into a single axel; a little shaky on the landing, but the lack of a toepick and the weight of his costume were a good enough excuse for that. Besides, hockey boys couldn’t tell the difference.

Eric turned to face Jack, took off his falcon head, and shook out his sweaty hair before saying, “That enough of a distraction for you, Mr. Zimmermann?”

The entire crew, including Jack, had stopped in their tracks. Most of them were speechless, in awe, or – in Jack’s case – letting their mouths hang open like a fish out of water while growing increasingly red in the face.

“Little Birdie, you gotta teach me that!” Tater said, jumping up and down at Jack’s side.

Jack didn’t respond, simply shot Eric a glare (or at least that’s what he assumed that expression was; Jack Zimmermann’s emotions were an enigma, it seemed) and skated off the ice and towards the direction of the locker room.

Eric tried to ignore the disappointment he could feel starting to bubble up in his chest, instead reveling in the compliments from other team members and promising Tater that yes, he’ll teach him a few things if he’s careful.

Damn, Jack Laurent Zimmermann sure was going to be a piece of work, wasn’t he?

``````````

Once they finally had a day where all of their schedules aligned, Shitty, Lardo, Ransom, and Holster all made the drive to Providence to have dinner at Eric’s small (yet charming) apartment.

But of course, it wasn’t that easy to get away from his job completely, and when Tater had asked him about his weekend plans, he’d practically begged to be invited.

“We don’t have game this weekend! I come over, meet friends, eat pie, yes?”

And who was Eric to say no?

So here they were, his most cherished friends from college, one overly excited NHL star, and one overwhelmed Eric Bittle.

Tater had warned him that he’d be bringing a friend and he wasn’t surprised when a familiar face walked through the door; one of the Falc’s rookies, who Eric hated to admit he had forgotten the name of.

“Name’s Ben,” the rookie said, giving Eric’s hand a firm shake.

Tater slapped Ben a little too forcefully on the back and added, “Call him Bubbles! It’s perfect nickname I come up with!”

Eric laughed, about to ask where the name came from when Bubbles said, “Don’t ask. I don’t really get it either.”

He led them to the kitchen where he had forced his friends to stay put in while he had welcomed his coworkers into his home.

Shitty got up from his seat and immediately went in for a hug, “Mashkov, my man! It’s great to meet you! Hope you’ve been treating our boy well.”

Lardo simply nodded her head in greeting and said, “Sup.”

Ransom, however, was completely silent and frozen in place. Everyone knew that he’d been practically in love with Tater ever since he got signed to the Falconers, and Eric had begged him not to make things uncomfortable for Alexei.

Eric guessed that wish was not going to come true as Holster shook Ransom out of his trance and said, “Dude, act natural.”

“Tater…” Ransom replied as Holster slapped a hand over his face and groaned.

With introductions at least sort of handled, they all settled down for the meal that Eric had slaved over for longer than was probably necessary.

Once they’d eaten enough to burst, Eric brought out the pie, which no one would ever shoot down no matter how full they were. That statement turned out to be correct as the entire table fought for a slice. Soon enough, they set to work finishing off their plates as they continued to chat.

“So, Bubbles, what convinced you to tag along with Tater tonight?” Shitty asked.

Bubbles turned his answer towards Eric. “Is it rude if I say I wanted to try the pie?”

“Oh honey, of course not! I’m flattered!” Eric smiled. “Did you not get any at the press conference?”

“No, it was all gone before I could get my hands on any. I’m glad I finally got to try it though; It was fucking delicious.”

“Thank you! I try my best,” Eric laughed.

With a mouthful of pie filling, Tater said, “I actually ask Zimmboni to come first, but he say he is busy!”

Eric shook his head. “Oh, he probably just said that to get out of it.” He paused, not knowing if this would be unprofessional of him or not, but Tater was here as a friend, so he continued. “I don’t think he likes me very much…”

Tater’s eyes widened as Lardo asked, “What makes you think that, Bits?”

“Well, you know…” He shrugged. “Everything, I guess. He’s made it very clear that he hates the whole mascot thing.”

“That’s a stupid reason to hate you, dude. It’s not like you came up with the idea for a mascot in the first place,” said Holster with one arm draped casually across Ransom’s shoulders.

Shitty added, “Yeah, bro! If he has a problem, he should take it out on the higher-ups, not you.”

Tater, who has been ping-ponging back and forth between the words coming from all sides of the table, interjected with a shake of his head. “I don’t think Zimmboni hate you, Little B!”

Everyone turned their heads toward Tater at that, and Eric responded with his hands on his hips. “Well, if he doesn’t, then why is he such an asshole to me? Sorry for my language, but that’s exactly what he’s being.”

Sighing, Tater said, “He just don’t like change, that’s all.” He twirled his fork between his fingers. “Hockey is Zimmboni’s life; anyone who he thinks get in the way of that, he don’t like either.”

“But I’m not getting in his way! I’m just doing my _job_!” Eric threw his hands up in frustration.

“I know that, Little B! We all do,” he looked towards Bubbles.

“Yeah, of course!” Bubbles responded, nodding his head a little too enthusiastically in agreement.

Tater nodded back and continued. “And I think Zimmboni know that too, deep down.” He leaned over the table and gave Eric his most serious look, which was cut slightly by the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “You just have to show him. Then he stop being Mister Grumpypants, I know it.”

Huh. Tater might have been onto something there. If Jack thought that the whole mascot thing was a waste of time, then Eric would just have to show him how wrong he was, how Destiny could elevate Jack’s game, not deter it.

And if there was one thing Eric was good at, it was bringing out the best in those around him.

And getting people to like him, but if this plan didn’t work, then that statement would be a total lie.

Tater, the sweetheart that he was, easily drained the room of the tension that had built up by exclaiming, “So! You have more pie, yes? I handle at least three more slices!”

Everyone let out a laugh at that, not at all surprised by the statement; Tater could probably eat an entire pie whole if he wanted to. Eric, of course, had been prepared for this. You don’t live in a frat house occupied by hungry hockey boys for three years without learning that one pie is never enough.

Second (and in Tater’s case, third) slices were passed around, and the conversation easily flowed back into lighthearted and casual territory, everyone’s faces too stuffed to really say much.

As Eric moved to the sink to get a head start on cleanup, Tater cut himself another slice and said, his head turned towards Eric, “Little Birdie! Why you wear costume when you cook like this? Open restaurant!”

Shitty, cozied up next to Lardo, waved his fork around wildly and said, “Brah! That’s what we keep telling him!”

Lardo nodded in agreement, taking another bite from her plate.

Ransom, who had been staring practically the entire evening, simply continued to do so, untouched plate in hand. “Tater…”

Holster gave him what could only be called a Death Stare and said, “Eat your pie, Justin.”

Eric, with his back turned away from the group and his hands now submerged in the soapy water from his sink, couldn’t help but smile and laugh at this silly family he’d found for himself, and the new additions to it that fit in like they were always meant to be there.

 _“I feel sorry for him,”_ Eric thought. “ _Anyone who doesn’t want to be a part of this is missing out.”_

``````````

It was his first NHL game, and Eric was filled to the brim with nerves. He wasn’t even _playing_ and he felt like he might pass out.

That might actually have been from the lack of circulation in his costume, but he was nervous nonetheless.

Actually, after his first practice and petty attempt at showing off, Georgia had suggested that he switch to figure skates, and they’d since altered the costume to make it lighter with more range of motion so he could perform a few tricks during the commercial breaks to entertain the crowd. Eric was completely on board, excited to actually be one of the more competent mascots on the ice.

And tonight he would do just that, be introduced at the start of the game before coming back on before the final period to do a short little routine and hype up the crowd.

Not that they would need the help; Providence home games were never without loyal fans who made that loyalty evident through their screams and cheers.

Or so he thought.

His reveal had gone well, just a few quick laps around the rink as the announcer introduced him as the Falconer’s new mascot. Eric zipped across the ice and waved to fans on all sides before skating off to watch the game unfold. He, thankfully, did not throw up into the inside of his beak.

It was pretty uneventful at first, neither team seemed to be able to score; it was like a never-ending game of back and forth. The first period ended with no goals from either side.

Then the second period started, and the Schooners sunk one into the net within the first two minutes.

Eric’s eyes found Jack’s jersey as he zoomed across the rink, trying desperately to steal the puck and even the score, but it was as if nothing was clicking. The team’s hearts weren’t in it, and neither was the crowd’s. Eric tried his best to get some chants started and a handful of people around him joined in, but even in costume, it was hard for anyone to pay attention to his small form within the sea of fans.

Tater was able to eke out a goal seconds before the buzzer, and the second period ended with the Schooners leading 2-1 going into the final push.

As he made his way down to the ice for his performance, he couldn’t help but watch as Jack squirted water all over his face with his water bottle before turning to the rest of the bench to begin what was hopefully a motivating speech and not an angry call-out.

Eric had a few more minutes before he needed to start, so he made his way over to the bench and asked, “How are y’all holding up? Seems rough out there-”

“Yeah, Bittle, it is,” Jack said. “Now if you’ll excuse us, I need to do my job and talk to my team.”

Before Eric could respond, Tater piped up from Jack’s right, “Little B, you performing now, yes? We make sure we watch.” He punches Jack in the shoulder. “Even Zimmboni! He love it when you jump!”

Eric could swear he saw a blush reach Jack’s cheeks. “I don’t- I mean, I….we need to strategize, we don’t have time to-”

“We do both, Zimmboni! No worry! Little B do his jumps, the crowd love it, and we go out and win, ok?”

Bubbles, who was a bit down the line from them, shouted, “Hell yeah!”

Jack gave a sigh in defeat and Eric laughed. “I’ll be sure to hype up the crowd as much as I can for y’all!” He heard his music start and began to skate away from the bench. “Good luck! I know you can win!”

“You too, B! Break leg!”

“Why would you say that?” Jack asked, completely serious.

Tater laughed and shook his head. “It’s metaphor, Jack. Means _good luck_.”

“Oh,” Jack replied, eyes falling in Eric’s direction.

Eric began to skate around the rink, waving some more and doing a few bunny hops before stopping at center ice, the boom of the announcer’s voice filling the arena.

“And now, give a warm welcome to the newest member of the Falconers family, Destiny!” The crowd let out a cheer in interest. “Now, it’s time for Destiny to give you a show! Let’s see him strut his feathers!”

Terribly corny, but there was nothing Eric could do other than exactly that, show these feathers off and show _Jack_ that he wasn’t just a waste of money and time; he was what would raise the fan’s spirits and elevate their game.

The music wasn’t his usual choice for a program, but his routine wouldn’t have been legal on the figure skating circuit anyway, so Eric embraced it as he whipped across the rink.

The first jump had the crowd going wild, and by the time he set up for his last spin, almost the entire stadium was on their feet. Even both teams were cheering from the benches, Tater jumping up and down as he squeezed Jack in an aggressive side hug.

As he struck his ending pose, wings spread wide, it was as though the sour mood had washed away completely, and the home crowd was hopeful again. Eric could even make out a big chunk of the stadium starting to form a big wave, and it might have been the best feeling in the world, knowing he made that happen.

As he skated off, he couldn’t help but look over at the bench one more time. The team seemed to have gained a second wind, determination pouring out of them in waves as Jack shouted above the noise.

“Ok, boys! We can’t let them down now! So we’re gonna go out there, score some goals, and play some damn good hockey, you got it?”

The whole bench tapped their sticks against the ground and cheered in agreement.

Eric could see the hint of a smile on Jack’s face as he added, “But don’t go doing any spinoramas!” Quickly, Jack’s eyes found Eric’s and, in the strangest turn of events, gave him a wink. Like, an actual wink. “Leave that to the professionals.”

Who was this man and what did he do with the real Jack Zimmermann?

The final period began with a vengeance, every Falconer on the ice not leaving room for any more mistakes, Snowy refusing to let the Schooners bag even one more goal. Jack was on fire, and within the first three minutes, he’d brought the score to a tie with a beautiful slap shot.

The rest of the period played out in a similar manner, not a single player letting up. The crowd was still on their feet, almost as though they had never calmed themselves enough to sit back down. Eric joined in on every chant, feeling his throat begin to feel hoarse with how loud he was yelling.

They were tied 2-2 for what felt like forever, and the entire arena felt the tension at the possibility of going into overtime. There were only twenty seconds left on the clock, and it seemed that it would be inevitable.

Then Jack seemed to come out of nowhere, stole the puck in a single fluid motion, and buried it in glove side before the Schooner’s goalie could even blink.

The whole stadium somehow got even louder; Eric feared they’d somehow shatter the glass.

The rest of the Falconers all dogpiled on top of Jack, yanking off helmets and screaming into each others’ ears like it was the Stanley Cup Final and not a simple home opener. Tater even attempted a waltz jump in his celly-induced hazed and, surprisingly, didn’t fall on his ass.

Eric hadn’t felt this proud since his own Frozen Four win, and he wasn’t even on the ice this time. Well, at least not in the same way. Somehow, this felt just as amazing as scoring himself.

As they all made their way to the tunnel and back to the locker rooms before press, Eric stood to the side and congratulated each sweaty hockey player that passed by. He even let Tater pick him up for an extra sweaty hug.

Jack was the last to leave the ice, bangs sticking to his face and sweat dripping down his jawline (which Eric definitely did not find unfairly attractive, no sir). Eric froze for a millisecond, never certain what words would decide to come out of Jack’s mouth at any given moment, and since his luck hadn’t been great so far, he allowed himself to be cautious.

“Good game, Jack,” he said, almost certain that Jack couldn’t even hear him over the noise of the crowd beginning to disperse.

What he wasn’t expecting though, was for Jack to pause, quirk his lips just slightly, and nod. “You too, Bittle.”

Jack didn’t even wait for a response, just walked through the tunnel and out of view, leaving Eric extremely confused but also way too happy over something so small. Jack was capable of saying something akin to a compliment? He could _smile_? Maybe Eric _did_ pass out and this was all a crazy dream and he’d wake up to Jack’s scowl and intense stare and all would be right with the world.

Or, maybe, his plan was actually working. He’d have to thank Tater later...

And If he pinched himself through his costume just in case, well, no one needed to know but him.

``````````

Eric loved his job. Working with real-life NHL players, interacting with fans, and getting to skate for a living was everything he could have ever wanted in his post-grad life.

There was one thing though, that Eric struggled to deal with every time he donned his costume;

He couldn’t fucking talk.

Which, for him especially, was like his own personal hell. Eric was a _talker_. He always felt the need to fill the silence in any and all situations, but now a huge aspect of his job was the fact that he _couldn’t_ , and it was eating Eric alive.

And this rule was _especially_ difficult every time he found himself doing what he loved most about being a mascot; Visiting the Providence Children’s Hospital and making a bunch of adorable kids’ days.

This was where he found himself now, decked out in his full Destiny garb and trying not to bite his tongue too hard as he struggled to stay silent. They – in this case, meaning Jack, Thirdy, and himself – were filling in coloring books with a little girl named Ally, sitting around her hospital bed with a box of crayons in her lap. Eric made her laugh with his awkward attempts at trying to hold a crayon with his wings and Eric wanted to scream over how cute she was, but he kept his mouth shut.

“Wow, Ally! Your zebra is so much better than mine! I love the purple stripes,” Thirdy said with a smile.

Ally let out the most adorable giggle. “I like yours too!” She paused, then poked Jack in the arm, who looked like he was concentrating very hard on the task at hand. “You don’t have to stay inside the lines, you know!”

Jack looked up from his drawing then, and gave Ally a soft smile. “Well, how else am I gonna have any chance of reaching your level of artistry, Miss Ally?”

She lost herself in a fit of giggles once again, and Eric grinned almost painfully wide from underneath his headpiece.

In the months following his first game as Destiny, Jack had started to become less hostile towards him with every meeting. Sure, they weren’t exactly best friends, but Eric could now hold a conversation with Jack without it ending in a glare or a snarky comment, and he took that as a major win.

One thing he absolutely did not expect though, was this side of Jack; the Jack that never said no to a hospital visit like this one, seemed to love kids and had kids love him back just as much. Eric, of course, had gone to every one of these events as well, and he wouldn’t have said he wasn’t surprised and maybe a little (very) charmed watching Jack interact with every child they met. He was curious, in all honesty, as to why Jack did it. He obviously had other things he needed to do on his days off and he rarely ever said yes to any other PR push, so what was so important about this that made Jack never miss a single visit?

“Ok, gather ‘round for a picture before we have to say goodbye,” A member of PR said, phone poised to shoot.

Eric had no doubt that the photo would end up on Twitter; he would need to retweet it to Destiny’s account as soon as he could access his phone.

They all took turns hugging Ally goodbye, Eric giving her a high-five which she returned with enthusiasm. As he moved away to make room for the rest of them, he watched as Jack gave her a careful, yet tight hug.

“It was very nice to meet you, Miss Ally,” he said, cheek resting on top of her beanie-clad head. “You are so very brave.”

Ally hugged back just as firmly, and Eric had to stop the tears that threatened to spill over. Then Jack pulled away and kissed her on the cheek, effectively making her laugh one last time before their visit was over.

Eric never thought this side of Jack existed, the soft and gentle voice and – _lord_ – that smile….

Nope. He wasn’t following _that_ train of thought. That was a disappointing track that led to absolutely nowhere.

After the day was done, the hospital staff invited them to their break room to celebrate another successful Falconers visit, and of course, Eric had brought pie as a thank you to the entire staff and PR for making such a wonderful opportunity possible. He was also grateful for the chance to finally change out of his costume and back into normal clothing despite being awfully sweaty either way.

“Bitty! Pie is amazing, as always. You’ll have to come over for dinner with my wife and me sometime! She’s been dying to try your pecan,” Thirdy said, coming to stand beside Eric with a slice of said pecan pie already halfway gone.

Eric shook his head and smiled. “You could’ve asked me to bring you one to take home with you, you know?”

“I guess I could’ve, but she really wants to meet you,” Thirdy said.

“Then of course, I’d love to come over for dinner sometime!” Eric’s eyes caught Jack’s from across the room as he seemed to hover around the dessert table without actually taking anything from it, averting his eyes when he caught Eric looking back at him. “Say, do you know why Jack never says no to these things? I mean, they’re a great opportunity, but he never struck me as a guy who’d like kids all that much.”

Thirdy looked in Jack’s direction for a moment, then turned his gaze back to Eric. “I don’t think I should be the one to answer that. Why don’t you go talk to him?”

Eric paused, not expecting such a serious answer, before he said, “I guess so...Couldn't hurt to try, right?”

“Of course,” Thirdy gave him a smile and pushed him lightly in Jack’s direction.

Conceding, Eric made his way over to Jack, who still had yet to do anything except stare at the pastries on the table as if they were mocking him. “Hey, mister.”

Jack jumped slightly at the sound of Eric’s voice. “Oh, uh….Hey, Bittle.”

Eric wasn’t surprised that Jack was so startled by the concept of Eric talking to him. Sure, they’d become more friendly towards each other compared to the start of the season, but Eric hadn’t tried to seek Jack out too much in fear that he’d just get on Jack’s nerves again. He was going to have to fix that if he wanted any chance of his plan continuing to work, and he guessed this was as good a time as any to try to get to know Jack besides a cursory Google search at 12 AM.

“You were pretty great today,” Eric said, and he didn’t miss the flush of red on Jack’s cheeks at the statement. “I’m surprised you don’t have kids of your own, you seem like a natural.”

Jack gave a nervous laugh. “Haha. That won’t be happening any time soon, I don’t think.”

“What, no _Mrs._ Zimmermann on your radar?”

Jack didn’t answer, just let out another, “Haha,” and averted his gaze to the floor.

“Jack, can I-” Eric paused, wondering for a second whether this was a good topic to breach before deciding to tread onward anyway. “Can I ask you something?”

“Um, sure, yeah.”

There was no turning back now. “Why do you always say yes to these events?” Eric stuttered out an explanation, “It’s just- You seem like such a busy guy, I don’t know how you find the time!”

Jack didn’t respond for a long moment as he looked at Eric with a calculating expression. When he did finally speak, his voice was quiet, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted anyone to overhear. “You...know about the overdose, right?”

Eric’s eyes widened slightly before nodding. Yes, he’d heard about the overdose; It was extremely hard to miss considering it was one of the first results to come up when he did that definitely just curious and totally not creepy Google search of his coworker after their heated first meeting. Reading about what had happened to Jack made Eric somehow feel sympathy for a guy who was a complete dick to him a few hours prior. Not forgiving, just sad. Jack had obviously gone through a lot to get where he currently was.

“Well, that’s partly the reason, I guess.” Jack kept his gaze fixated on his shoes, the same ugly yellow ones he seemed to never be without. “I guess I felt guilty, seeing these kids, how they’re fighting so hard to stay alive when I had almost- Well, you know….”

Eric nodded again in response and Jack finally looked back up, meeting him in the eye. “Sometimes it feels like I need to make it up to them, I guess, for almost giving up something they don’t even have a choice in keeping.”

Speechless, Eric had no idea what to say. It made sense, all of it, how sweet and kind Jack was to these children who were in such terrible situations. Jack had almost let it all go, everything _they_ were trying so hard to hold onto. He couldn’t believe he’d ever seen Jack as just some asshole with no emotions. He wasn’t the kindest person, sure, but he’d gone through so much and somehow still came out of it in one piece, and even decided to use his position to make even just a few kids’ situations a little brighter.

“And, you know, I guess I’m just great with kids,” Jack smiled, a little lopsided and a little hesitant. “Eh, Bittle?”

Eric found himself laughing at that, the tightness in his chest unfurling slightly and leaving a warm feeling that he definitely couldn’t blame on his layers of feathers this time. It buzzed between his ribs and stayed there as he said, “Yeah, definitely good with kids.”

Jack’s smile grew just a centimeter wider before he motioned to the last slice pecan pie sitting on the table by his hip. He picked it up hesitantly and, seeing the surprise on Eric’s face, pointed the fork in Eric’s direction and said, “Don’t tell the nutritionist about this.”

Eric zipped his mouth shut and threw away the key, “My lips are sealed.”

 _“He just might be growing on me_ ,” Eric thought, and oh, what a realization _that_ was.

``````````

When Georgia had seen Eric’s sizable Twitter following and asked if he’d be interested in running Destiny’s official Twitter page, there was no way Eric was going to refuse. Mascot social media was some of the funniest stuff he’d ever seen on the platform (most of that coming from Gritty, the Flyers’ terrifying yet oddly endearing mascot). Eric knew he needed to take advantage of his skills and make Destiny a viral sensation. And he succeeded, for the most part. His follower count had risen to an impressive 200k in the five months since Destiny’s first reveal, and he had a blast posting fun little videos from games and interacting with fans and even some members of the Falcs who had actually listened to PR and were active on their accounts.

But there was one member he just couldn’t seem to get a reaction out of. That is, until one night Eric’s phone pinged with a notification that someone had retweeted the image of Destiny, Jack, and Thirdy at the hospital.

@jlzfalcs1 had finally come out of hibernation to retweet the image, it seemed. He even replied to him!

Oh, so this boy could be funny? Surprising. Eric did what he was good at and kept the banter going.

He was a little afraid that his Destiny persona was a bit too much like him at first, but his followers seemed to love it. Eric definitely got a kick out of joking back and forth with other players, he just never expected Jack to take the bait, or respond in kind.

Eric laughed a bit to himself, curled up on the couch in his apartment. It was crazy to think that he was technically doing his job right now, tweeting a guy that had been kind of a dick to him for a while and somehow enjoying it.

And Jack still hadn’t apologized for being an ass, was the thing. That’s probably why Eric was so confused when Jack had found his personal account and followed him immediately after their interaction.

“Huh,” Eric said, reading the notification. He paused for a moment before following back.

His eyes flew open when, not even a minute later, Jack messaged him. Privately.

“Shit-” Had he said something wrong?

Eric opened the message, and a single word stared back at him:

How the hell was he supposed to respond to that?

Oh god, was the exclamation point too much?

Well. That was definitely not what Eric expected. Jack seemed...awkward? He was somehow being oddly nice to Eric all of a sudden and Eric had absolutely no idea how to react, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to ruin this chance at a friendly conversation.

Eric left his phone on the couch to go make a cup of tea, and when he opened up his DMs again, he almost spilled boiling hot water all over his lap.

“What does that _mean_?” He asked absolutely no one, carefully placing his mug on the coffee table so as to not give himself second-degree burns.

Was Jack….No, he couldn’t be. Eric was just projecting, that’s all. After how Jack had treated him – how much he seemingly hated Eric’s guts – there was _no way_ Jack could be flirting with him. Eric was just getting his hopes up, seeing things that weren’t actually there and never _could_ be. Besides, Jack still hadn’t apologized for how rude he was; Yeah, Eric was lonely, but not _that_ lonely that he’d stoop that low.

But how the hell was he _supposed_ to interpret this? Eric panicked, not wanting to leave him on read for too long, and replied:

He winced. Just how awkward could he be? The response he received was immediate:

Eric groaned, hitting his head against the back of the couch. How could such an asshole be so endearing?

They talked for a while after that, Eric still completely and utterly confused about the whole situation. Jack continued to….attempt to flirt with him? He didn’t know how else to describe it, but it sure was interesting. Eric didn’t want to make any assumptions though; He had been burned by straight guys before, and he told himself he’d be stronger and _not_ fall for one again, let alone one who was an utter dick to him for a considerable amount of time. Sure, Jack was getting better, it seemed, but Eric needed to be realistic.

 _“God, don’t tempt me now,”_ Eric thought, looking at the cut of Jack’s jawline in his profile picture.

He attempted to drown the butterflies he felt growing in the pit of his stomach as he sat on the shower floor that evening. However, they lingered even as he brushed his teeth and spit into the sink a little too aggressively.

Eric drew a **:-)** in the mirror fog before he could stop himself, buried himself under his covers, and hoped a good night’s rest would knock some sense into him.

``````````

The next week left Eric with so many questions he had no clue what to do with himself. He and Jack continued to message each other regularly, Eric really bringing his chirping game to some pretty impressive levels and Jack...well, Eric didn’t know _what_ to make of him. Jack was so easy to talk to, but also confused Eric to no end when all of a sudden he’d say something that couldn’t be seen as anything _but_ flirting; Jack wasn’t the best at it, it seemed, but he was definitely trying, and Eric had absolutely no clue how to respond. He didn’t want to make any assumptions and end up making Jack uncomfortable, especially since they had to be around each other so often.

They saw each other multiple times a week and somehow, despite their friendship (was that what it was?) beginning to bloom over social media, Jack seemed to be ignoring him in person; that or he was so awkward he didn’t know how to talk to Eric after how terribly it went the first time. Eric would stick to his side of the rink – making sure not to be too _distracting_ – and every so often he’d catch Jack giving him an awkward wave from across the ice. Eric’s practice would end before the team’s, and they would go another day seeing each other without exchanging a single word in person. He’d get home to a text from Jack, never acknowledging their lack of interaction, end up talking about nothing for hours, and go to bed only to rinse and repeat the next day.

That’s where Eric found himself now. Jack hadn’t said a word to him yet again, but Tater had barreled over to his side of the ice at one point, crashing into Eric with enough force to send him falling if it weren’t for the arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders.

“Little Birdie! How is practice?”

His face squished against Tater’s chest, Eric answered, “Well, it _was_ going great until I got ambushed by two hundred pounds of hockey player-”

“Haha! I much more than two hundred pounds, but that not why I’m here,” Tater laughed as he set Eric’s feet back on the ice. He then proceeded to place both gloved hands on Eric’s shoulders, expression turning serious. “Zimmboni don’t like talking, but he like talking to you. He’ll get off his ass and do what he like soon, I promise.”

“Tater, what the hell are you talking-”

“I say too much,” Tater said. He skated back across the rink at that, turning back to Eric as he shouted, “Trust me, B!”

Eric just stood there, stunned and confused, catching a glimpse of Jack giving a sheepish smile in his direction before turning back to continue his shooting drills. He continued the rest of that day’s practice wondering what the hell that had all meant.

His questions would be answered soon after though, as Eric walked back to his car after his time on the ice was over for the day, skate bag slung over his shoulder.

“Bittle! Wait!” A voice called out from across the parking lot, and Eric turned around to find Jack making his way quickly towards him, hockey bag jostling with every stride.

Well, it looked like Monsieur Grumpy finally decided to make an appearance outside of awkward texts and silent looks for a change.

“Jack! What’s wrong? You’re all out of breath! You could’ve just texted-”

“Bittle.”

Freezing, Eric lifted his gaze to meet Jack’s, only to find him a lot closer than Eric had thought he was. He had the sudden urge to reach out and touch, but he stopped himself.

Jack took a deep breath, eyes locking with Eric’s intensely, and said, “I owe you an apology.”

Eric’s eyes widened; somehow, that was the thing he least expected to hear. “Huh?”

“I owe you an apology,” Jack repeated. Eric could see his hands shaking slightly from where they hung at his sides and had to fight the urge to take them in his, letting Jack continue. “I was wrong, for calling you unimportant. I can be...very serious about hockey, sometimes _too_ serious, according to Tater…”

“He may be onto something there,” Eric said, letting out a soft chuckle to try to ease the tension he could see radiating from Jack’s shoulders.

Jack huffed a short laugh in response, the hint of a smile betraying his serious expression. “Even so, I shouldn’t have taken that out on you. You were just doing your job.”

Eric waved a hand at that. “Oh, well, I _was_ being very distracting at times, so I-”

“You’re an asset to the team, Bittle.”

Eric swallowed his tongue. “Oh.”

Jack let out a frustrated sigh, covering his face with one hand. “I’m sorry. I should’ve apologized sooner, at least before I…” He paused, turning his gaze toward the ground between them, neon yellow sneakers shifting against the pavement. “Before I started texting you.”

“I like texting you,” Eric replied, surprising even himself.

Silence fell between them for what felt like minutes but was probably only a few seconds, before they both went to speak again in unison.

“Jack, were you-”

“Bittle, do you-”

They both laughed, and Eric said, “You go first.”

Jack gave a shy smile that made Eric’s heart beat loud in his chest. “Bittle, do you-”

“Don’t you mean Little Birdie?” Eric interrupted, smile taking on a chirp like quality.

Returning the smile and the chirp, Jack responded, “I thought only Tater called you that.”

“Oh, he does…” Eric fixed Jack with a genuine yet shy look as he added, “But...you can call me Bitty, if you want.”

Jack blinked, surprised, before his face broke out in the widest grin Eric had ever seen on him; Eric’s stomach did little somersaults just looking at it. “Bitty. I like it; it suits you.”

Eric slapped Jack’s shoulder playfully at that. “Oh hush, you-”

Jack effectively shut him up by gently putting his hand over Eric’s on his shoulder. “Bitty, would you like to get coffee?”

He could feel the warmth of Jack’s hand quickly seep under his skin, leaving him at a loss for words. He stared at where Jack’s palm rested on the back of his hand and asked, “Right now?”

Jack gave a small chuckle, and it was just as warm as his fingers. “If you’re not busy…”

“No! I mean-” Eric sighed, voice almost a whisper as he said, “I would love to.”

Smile somehow spreading even wider, Jack brought Eric’s hand down from his shoulder and interlaced their fingers.

Their smiles stayed even as they left their bags in Eric’s car, hands still clasped between them and swaying slightly as they walked to the coffee shop across from the arena.

They didn’t speak the entire way there. They didn’t speak as they walked into the shop and waited for their orders. They didn’t say a word until they were sitting near the back, knees knocking under the table and palms connected between them.

“So, how often do they wash that costume?”

Eric laughed and took a sip from his cup. “Oh honey, not nearly enough.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“So, there you have it,” Eric says, clapping his hands together as he addresses his audience. “That definitely wasn’t something I expected to happen when I got this job, but I sure as hell ain’t complaining!”

Eric pauses for a moment, looking anywhere but the lens as he says, “I was a little afraid that Jack was right at first, but I guess trying so hard to prove him wrong made me see it too, that I’m an important part of the game.”

He smiles. “It felt really good...to hear him say that Destiny means something to him, to all of them….”

Spinning once in his chair, Eric laughs. “I guess _Monsieur Grumpy_ isn’t so grumpy after all!”

Resting his head in his hands, Eric sighs. Becoming a mascot is probably the most amazing experience Eric has ever been given, and even through all the performance anxiety and dealing with initially hostile captains, he wouldn’t trade it for the world. He loves that he gets to bring Destiny to life, he loves all the new friends he’s been able to make, he even loves wearing that silly costume! Eric simply loves his job, meeting Jack was just a bonus.

“Those shoes though,” He stares the camera down with a look of utter determination. “Those have _got_ to go.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Make sure to go check out the art for this fic in better quality on [tumblr](https://bajillionkittens.tumblr.com/post/620201861116461056/bajillionkittens-the-first-of-two-fics-i) and read the other fics in this collection! 
> 
> come talk to me on Tumblr at [b1ttle](https://b1ttle.tumblr.com/) (my omgp blog) or [marc0bot](https://marc0bot.tumblr.com/) (my main)!! I love talking to people about my fics or receiving prompts!! <3


End file.
